"You...can really hold your water," slurred the toucan. "It's terrible, I know. Forgive me." He turned away from the baccarat table, light of wallet but heavy of tongue. He'd clearly had too much cognac, but he still tipped the glass to his beak and sipped, the ice clinking around.

"More camel jokes, eh?" Sobek-Ra asked. His world was filled with blurry after-images and echoing noises. The baccarat dealer wore the half-smile of someone trying to be gracious in the face of drunk passengers. He put a raggedy-feeling arm around Rolando's shoulder. He knew where this was going, and he hoped the toucan did as well.

They had met earlier this afternoon while waiting to board the gangplank back onto the ship from Nassau, which had proven to be less than interesting. Beyond the falsity of the tourist traps was alley after alley of ghetto, and the luxury of the ship was what the camel had paid for in the first place. If he'd wanted ghetto, he'd have stayed in Miami, and driven across town.

They'd struck up a conversation when Sobek-Ra had complained aloud about the irony of boredom on cruises, and Rolando had added something similar, which he couldn't remember now because the toucan's open collar and chest feathers were enticing him so much.

"I'm no good with jokes," said Rolando, lurching a bit before the camel caught him. "This is really good cognac!"

Sobek-Ra hiccuped and patted the bird on the back. "We're the only ones left, it looks like. It's almost three in the morning."

"Oh! We've been playing that long?"

Running a hand over his own half-opened shirt, which Rolando seemed to not remember having unbuttoned, the camel laughed. "We had a couple good streaks. Not that you'd remember."

"In the morning, maybe. Right now...I dunno." Who would have thought they both lived in Miami, both having booked the same cruise just to get out on the ocean and forget about life for awhile. Rolando looked up at him with his beak all cutely crooked. "Becky, I don't think I can make it alone. Tonight. T-to my room."

That's what "Becky" had wanted to hear. The way the toucan squeezed his thigh, was uncomfortable in the best way. Rolando looked over. Saw what he looked for. Smiled.

"Let me help you to your cabin, sir?" He gestured away from the table and to the door, out to C Deck. Out to fresh air. Out to a shared bed, he hoped. Twin claws rubbed up and down his calf. He could easily plant a gentle kiss on that beak, but not here and not now.

"After you, señor," the bird managed. And they were off into unknown territory.

***

Sobek-Ra is tym

Rolando is whyteyote

Art is cooner